


For Wyatt

by Takada_Saiko



Series: Fallen [27]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lots of drinking, and brawling, and the guys being assholes to each other, bar brawl, because that's what they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takada_Saiko/pseuds/Takada_Saiko
Summary: Future fic. Because it's always a great idea to lock two men that hate each other into a confined space with a lot of whiskey at their disposal. Prompt #27:“I’m not going to apologize for this. Not anymore.”





	For Wyatt

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: A bit stronger cursing than I usually include in my fics. It's Bobo and Doc angry and after copious amounts of whiskey.

 

**For Wyatt**

Shorty's was closed down tight and mostly deserted, save the two men that leaned on either side of the bar desperately trying to avoid eye contact like two scolded children that had been sent to their room and told not to come out until they had made peace. They each had a glass of whiskey in front of them, a bottle that had started partly empty set halfway between, and Bobo estimated they'd been there for somewhere just over an hour in complete, stubborn silence. It wasn't like either of them could leave really. Wynonna might not kill them, but she had made it clear that she would bring the pain. For some reason she was damned determined that this feud - one that was rooted in events that had happened over a century before - ended that night. She didn't seem to get that wanting it and getting it were two very different things. All Bobo and John Henry were going to do was make a sizable dent in the saloon's whiskey stores until one of them passed out or they came to blows again, whichever came first. Bobo's bet was on the latter with the tension hanging in the air

Bobo finished the glass he was working on and reached to pour another.

"Dare I ask if you actually plan on paying for what you drink tonight?" Holliday groused, his voice steadier than it should have been for the amount of whiskey he had been drinking that evening. Granted, Bobo thought he might have had a bit more, but his system ran differently than a human's. He wasn't going to drop dead of alcohol poisoning. Now there was an idea. Surely Wynonna knew her lover well enough to know if he drank himself to death it wouldn't be any fault of Bobo's.

Clear blue eyes flickered up to meet a set of a different shade. "Considering I never saw a dime from you when you took over my bar, I'd say I'm owed."

"I reckon you lose your rights to a place when you die."

"Then I 'spose it's back up for grabs." Blue eyes flashed red and his smile was anything but friendly as he watched John Henry twitch just a little at the reminder of his own recent trip down south. Good. Let the little bastard squirm. At least he could get a little entertainment if he had to be trapped there with him.

Holliday pushed a breath out through his nose and refilled his own glass, taking a long sip from it. Bobo watched him carefully. He was feeling the buzz around his own mind that signaled the alcohol starting to affect him, and no matter how accustomed good ol' Hank was, even his tolerance couldn't match a Revenant's, so he must have been feeling it by now. The silence wouldn't last, and while Wynonna had warned them not to start a brawl in the middle of the bar, restraint only reached so far when hate ran as deeply as it did between them. It might even do them some good to get it out of their system for a little while longer.

"I did wonder," Hank started, his usual drawl just a little more pronounced, "just what the hell Wyatt ever saw in you all those years ago. A pup following at his heels, maybe, but a dog's at least loyal." He chuckled at his own insinuation, the only one finding any humour in it. "But you," he said, his tone suddenly darker as he looked back up, catching and holding Bobo's gaze, "only look out for one person, and it ain't Wyatt."

"Hard to look after someone's been dead and in the ground nearly a century, ain't it?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Bobo loosed a breath, keeping a careful lid on a temper ready to boil. That's what had gotten them in this mess. Doc had popped off one too many times and Bobo had finally snapped forward and wrapped his fingers around the other man's throat, lifting him from the ground. They hadn't gotten any further than that as Waverly had come barreling in, shouting and panicking and Bobo had dropped the gunslinger immediately, neither moving an inch at each other with Waverly Earp standing between them and barking at them over their behavior. Then Wynonna had stepped in and here they were. In time out.

That didn't mean that Bobo didn't want to snap his neck any less now than he did earlier, or at least land a hard enough blow to knock that smug expression he always wore off his face.

"Oh, Hank," he murmured, letting amusement colour his voice, "you can act all high and mighty, but you're not so loyal yourself. Only when it suits you."

"Least I didn't side with the creatures that he put down. The ones hellbent on endin' his very line."

"Oh didn't you? Musta been someone else lurking around the park wearing your face and using your name that came to me for help in finding the Stone Witch," Bobo answered, flashing teeth in a dangerous smile. "Don't pretend you and I are so different."

Holliday snorted. "You knew where she was."

A chuckle escaped Bobo. "Long game, was it?" he asked, looking over his glass as he spoke. Drunk or not, Hank was typically quick enough when it came to reading between the lines.

The other man snorted, picking up his glass and starting around the bar to the other side as he spoke. "You really expect me to believe that's what all this has been for you?"

Bobo let the corners of his mouth twitch upward as he leaned in the counter. "I've been here, Hank. Through every year. Through every chaotic moment since Wyatt died and we woke up in this shithole. Through every Heir. Josiah knew me when he arrived in a Purgatory. Edwin and I met often to try to find a balance even during his killing spree that decimated everything his father and I had done. Ward and I were damn close to ending the curse when Wynonna shot him in the back. Each one, every damn one, _I_ have been here trying to make sure things didn't go more to hell than they already were, even if I was in the filth with them. The filth Wyatt left us in. What good would you have been?" He motioned as he spoke, and he saw Doc's mustache move as his lips twitched beneath it, pausing a few paces away from him.

"You know damn well where I was, Bobo Del Rey. _You_ left me there."

"No, no, no," Bobo chided as he turned to lean back against the bar. "That's not what I asked. There's a reason you were at the bottom of that well, _Doc_." Wyatt's nickname for the man left his lips like a curse. "We saw just what Purgatory would have been had you had your chance."

"I did everything I could do to reverse that damned spell," Holliday snapped defensively.

"We _all_ did. Even me, the demon you do love to hate." Bobo pulled in a deep, steadying breath, straightening to his full height. He wanted a fight if he were honest. He wanted to finish what they'd started and he was getting tired of fighting that impulse. It burned as deeply as hell's fire that were etched into his back. "You wanna know what Wyatt saw in me? Unlike his dear, drunk friend John Henry, I was - and _am_ \- a strategist. I know what a long game is and how to play it to get the best results at the end. You -" he let his gaze drift, his voice taking on a bored sort of tone - "flail around and shoot at anything that moves, hoping you hit an enemy and not a friend."

His gaze shifted sharply and they stood glowering at each other for a long moment before Doc pulled a pistol - looked like Wynonna hadn't gathered all of them - almost quicker than even Bobo's demon eyes could follow and it was steady in his hand. "And what are you, Bobo? Friend-" his thumb rested on the hammer of the pistol, ready to pull it back - "or enemy?"

Bobo tilted his head. It was amazing how often he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. There was the immediate rush, deep and born of having been mortal and having died that way, but then he always remembered, usually before his expression changed at all, that unless it was an Heir and the gun was Wyatt's, the pain would pass. He flashed a dangerous smile. "You take that shot, Holliday, and you're going to find out exactly how it would have ended earlier if Waverly hadn't come in."

"You and I've gone head to head, Bobo. I don't need a firearm to knock you flat on your ass."

"You found me at a disadvantage that day. Clootie'd already had a go."

Hank smirked. "You've got a lot of excuses." He tossed his gun into his free hand, pulling back to take a swing with his right, but Bobo caught it before it landed, and there was a flash of realization in those wide blue eyes that Doc might have just misjudged the Revenant while at full strength.

Bobo echoed the smirk that was now fading and didn't let go as he swung around with his other fist, landing a hard hit to the other man's jaw and sending him stumbling back. "You think I never learned to fight? Nearly ninety years here. I learned how to protect myself."

Doc staggered, but as he looked back around his grin was more excitable than any man's should have been. Looked like he wanted a fight just as badly as Bobo did.

The newly mortal man rushed the Revenant, slamming into him, using his weight to send him push him back. Bobo widened his stance, trying to catch himself before Holliday took him off his feet and sent them both tumbling to the floor. He managed, just barely and shoved him hard back, ducking the next blow. He flashed a dangerous grin and snarled as he leapt forward, feeling a rush that came with just letting himself loose. He was so tightly coiled with so much rested on his shoulders, but right there, right then, as long as he didn't kill the man, it didn't matter. He could pummel Doc Holliday into the ground. The asshole had taken the first swing.

They exchanged blows. Holliday must have had a few fights to his name while thoroughly intoxicated in his day. It was like breathing for him and that meant he could keep up. Bobo was quicker than he seemed to expect, and certainly more aware of his surroundings. He didn't often come to blows with people, though, even if he was fully capable, and it was a misread that landed him a hard blow that sent him slamming hard into the wall.

He shook his head hard, wiping the back of his hand across his nose and finding a smear of brown, Revenant blood on it. He frowned just a little at it. "You think I betrayed Wyatt," he snarled, feeling his eyes flash red, his vision tinged in the same shade. "I've given everything for him and been fucked for it. He's gone, dead and at peace, and here we are. Cleaning up his _shit_. Don't tell me you don't see that. Don't tell me that you don't understand that none of this-"

Holliday slammed him hard, hands on his shoulders - a brief flash to the last time that this had happen and the pain that exploded as the spikes had ripped through his chest sparking across his memory - and he felt his head connect with the wall behind him hard enough to make his vision swim, but at least it kept him from falling into the recent past. "You think I blame Wyatt for what happened?" he demanded, leaning in towards Bobo's face. "For my trip to hell? For being stuck in the well? No. He would've had me stay away from all of that. He'd've had me keep my _soul_. _I_ chose to give it to the Witch for what I thought was immortality. I…" He released Bobo, but the Revenant stayed where he was. There was something in the dejection in the other man's voice that held him where he there, watching carefully with his jaw clenched tightly and ready to continue the brawl if that's where it turned next. He slouched back, and Holliday finally pivoted around, leaning against the wall next to him when Bobo realized he wasn't going to continue the boxing match.

Blueeyes squeezed closed and John Henry swallowed hard. "No. Wyatt would have had me stay away from it all. He hated me for it in the end. He came to me, and then he left… like I'd cursed him myself."

It was strange what drink could make a man confess. Of all the things Bobo had known about the situation, the fact that Wyatt had found Doc and left him in a rage wasn't one of them. Even so, he hadn't come back to Robert. Even angry as he was he'd gone off looking for Doc Holliday again rather than face his dying friend. Bobo loosed a breath, letting his head thump lightly on the wall behind him, and a low growl escaped.

Holliday snorted next to him. "I remember you, you know. Oh, not when I first ran across you in the trailer park. You'd changed too much for that -" Bobo managed a rough chuckle at that one - "but then I heard your name. Robert Svane. I remembered the little mouse bringin' word from Wyatt. I met you… twice? Maybe. Ain't no more than that, even I know. Exactly what is it that you hate me for at any rate?"

Bobo let his gaze slide over. Somewhere in the rush of the fight John Henry had holstered his weapon and lost his hat. He looked strangely small standing there with his shoulders slumped forward and a dejected look drawing at his face. The man that Wyatt had alway loved more dearly, the one that Robert never could quite match up to looked more beaten down right then than Bobo had ever seen him, and it had nothing to do with the bruises already starting to form on his face.

"Well? Least give me that," Holliday grumbled, voice a little slurred.

Bobo snarled deeply, the whiskey still working through his system and loosening his tongue. "You," he growled, "talk about how I betrayed him, but you couldn't be bothered to ride with him. I was there. I stood by him, and this is what I get for it. You may be mortal now, Holliday, but you're right. You brought your own damnation down on your head. You left him without the backup he wanted - that he _needed_ \- to drink and gamble your last days away. I _died_ to make sure he got out of it alive and look which one of us walks free without having to claw and scrape for every choice." He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "I was wrong. Wyatt didn't screw you over. You did that one all on your own." Holliday always had gotten it all, deserved or not, while Robert always drew the short end, deserved or not. Wynonna had told him once that everything might have been different if he'd chosen to save Doc from the well, but in reality, it would have been different if Doc had manned up and shown up where he was needed.

"And you've done nothing to deserve what you got, is that it?" Holliday groused.

"I was a good man before all this." Was. He _was_ a good man. He hadn't been able to claim that in so long now. A mirthless chuckle escaped him at the thought. "But what can I say? Hell burns it right outa ya."

A silence fell over them and Hank huffed next to him after a stretch. "Do you really hate him that much?"

"No." The confession slipped from his lips before he could stop it and Bobo slid down the wall into a crouched position, blue gaze fixed straight ahead. He wanted to. The curse that Wyatt had gotten him caught up in compelled him to. It ate at his mind and whatever was left of his charred soul. It pushed and beckoned him to chase down every Heir, to end Wyatt's line.

_You're gonna be a demon, Robert._

Constance's words from so many years ago still sent chills up his spine. He had, but he would truly be damned if he let it take _everything_ from him that had made him him.

He let his eyes slip closed. "He went back for you. I laid dying and you were the only one on his mind. No, John Henry, I don't hate Wyatt. Though I do hate you."

Doc swallowed hard and Bobo didn't dare look at him. The fresh wave of pain might push him over the edge to truly killing the man, and he couldn't do that. He needed the alliance with Wynonna to hold so they could defeat Bulshar.

Holliday pushed himself off the wall and Bobo saw him stalk towards the bar without a word, grabbing the whiskey bottle and their glasses without a word. He walked back and handed Bobo his glass before taking a seat next to him, topping off both glasses and holding his own out. "For Wyatt."

Bobo stared at him for a long moment, uncertain.

"I wasn't there to help him then, but I'm not goin' anywhere now. I'm all in with this." Doc chuckled roughly. "You and I ain't ever going to be friends, Bobo, but he knew that. Had to. That don't mean we can't find a way to work together."

A truce. That was what he was going for. Bobo watched the glass for a long moment before sighing deeply, clinking his own to it. "For Wyatt."

They drank, the truce set.

The gunslinger pushed a long breath out his nose. "Just don't expect me to apologize for hitting you again."

"You ain't apologized once," Bobo answered, but his lips perked up as he looked at the damage they'd done. Chairs tipped over, one broken, and tables had been pushed aside. They'd done a number on it, and if he were honest, he did feel better. Less frustrated, even if the gnawing pain that the truth had left him with would remain for a time yet.

"Well there you have it," Holliday chuckled, drinking from his glass.

They sat in silence then, the whiskey between them and a promise to work together in the name of the man they'd both cared for. They still hated each other, that hadn't changed, but there were bigger things.

* * *

 

Notes: I had so much trouble with this one and I blame how stubborn these two are. I'm still not 100% satisfied with it, but honestly I could probably work on it for weeks and it would still give me trouble. So here's hoping it's not as much of a hot mess as I feel like it is O.o


End file.
